The Gilded Hour

  At the corner of Fifth Avenue and Washington Square Park they worked their way through a crowd of children watching a puppet show, past an organ grinder whose monkey held out a greasy old hat for coins, newsboys hawking their papers, and pushcarts displaying cans of tobacco, cigars, hard candy, handkerchiefs, small Italian and American flags, peanuts, inexpensive jewelry, and religious medals. When they were free of the worst of the crowds Jack took her hand and they walked north.

  “Oscar is always uneasy on this part of Fifth Avenue,” Jack said. “He got caught up in the draft riots around here, just a couple days after he joined the force. Do you remember anything about them?”

  “I remember the noise, but that’s all. We were a household of women and children and we locked ourselves in, you see. Uncle Quinlan was dead, Mr. Lee was in the army somewhere in the south, and Margaret had come to stay with her boys. We weren’t allowed out of the house during the riots, not even in the garden. Auntie wouldn’t even let us see the newspapers once it was all over.”

  Jack looked almost relieved to hear this.

  “So, Savard,” he said. “Where exactly are we going?”

  “Patience. Just a couple more minutes.”

  She would have raised the subject of the suspicious ad in the paper, but Anna had begun to doubt her suspicions and could no longer see a connection between the newspaper clippings and the deaths of three women. She would only embarrass herself, like a child who came into the hospital with a scratch and demanded a plaster cast.

  Then again, Jack wouldn’t laugh at her, even if there was nothing of merit in what she wanted to show him. He would listen, and they would talk about it. Then, she was almost certain, he would put her suspicions to rest and they would go back to listen to the band and watch the children playing as the day slipped away to evening.

  As they turned west on Ninth Street Jack said, “We talked to Archer Campbell this morning, Oscar and me.”

  Anna was glad of the distraction. “About the money question?”

  “Mostly. She had over a thousand dollars with her when she left with the boys that morning, but there was no trace of it on her person or in the house when it was searched after her death. Campbell thinks she paid somebody to take the boys in.”

  Anna considered. “So you were correct, she had enough money to pay a reputable doctor. But how would she find someone to take four young boys she could trust? A thousand dollars is a great deal of money, but at the very minimum that would have to last fifteen years.”

  Jack said, “We don’t know where the money went. The house was empty for a good while once the ambulance took her away, and then there’s the ambulance ride itself. I’ve arrested more than one orderly with pockets full of cash and jewelry they took off their charges. Chances are slim we’ll be able to pin anything down, but it’s worth looking at.”

  Jefferson Market came into view, all the stalls empty and shuttered on a Sunday afternoon. In a few hours the aisles would be full of street arabs and the outdoor poor, who would fight to keep a spot under that leaky tin roof. A few were already standing nearby in the shadow of the Sixth Avenue elevated train tracks. At the sight of Jack they slipped away around corners.

  Behind the market the redbrick bulk of the Jefferson Court House loomed, proud and fanciful both in an island of small houses and tenements, home mostly to skilled workers and small business owners.

  “Now I’m even more curious,” Jack said, teasing. “You can’t mean to take me on a tour of the courthouse? The police station?”

  Anna said, “No, look there.”

  She nodded toward the storefronts that faced the market. A tailor, a cobbler, a greengrocer, a steam laundry. Between the grocer and the cobbler one shop stood out, a little wider than the others, the awning newer, the show windows spotless. The weathered sign was the only thing that gave away the shop’s age, old-fashioned script spelling out the name: Geo. Smithson, Apothecary.

  There were dozens of druggist’s shops like it in the city, but Smithson was one of the oldest and most respected. The shop was closed on a Sunday, of course. But she had counted on that.

  Jack was watching her, curious but patient.

  She took the newspaper cuttings from her reticule and handed him the one on the top.

  “I came across that first advertisement by accident early today. I was a little later than I should have been to the picnic because I stopped to buy different newspapers to look through.” She fanned out the other clippings for him to see.

  “Of the five I bought, four had identical ads.”

  Jack studied the clippings briefly, then glanced across the street to the druggist.

  “What you probably don’t know,” she went on, “is that neighborhood midwives almost always have a druggist they work with, where they consult and get whatever preparations they need. Druggists keep a list of midwives who work in the area, and take messages for them. Some druggists work with only one or two midwives they trust. My cousin Amelie—I haven’t told you about her yet—worked with Smithson for more than thirty years before she gave up her practice. Another midwife took her place, her name was Sarah Conroy, but she’s retired now too. I’m not sure who’s working with Smithson now, but this—” She touched the newspaper advertisement. “This makes me wonder.”

  Jack was listening closely, keeping his thoughts to himself. Anna knew her voice had gone hoarse, but she would tell all of it. She had to tell all of it.

  “Amelie was an excellent midwife. People still talk about her. Sarah was just as good. And both of them would help women who came to them in trouble.”

  She saw that he understood. For a long moment he considered the newspaper clipping, and then he took in a deep breath and let it go.

  Jack asked, “Do you know who took Sarah’s place? Who’s working with Smithson now?”

  “No, not with any certainty. But I could find out.”

  “Wait,” Jack said. “Let me see if I follow your thinking. A woman comes to talk to this Smithson when she’s looking for a midwife, either to deliver her when the time comes, or to regulate her courses—” He was using the euphemistic wording from the newspaper.

  “To end the pregnancy,” Anna clarified. “Yes.”

  “And it’s always worked that way?”

  “It’s not the only way a woman finds a midwife, but it is one way, yes.”

  “And you’re thinking that this Dr. dePaul is trying to get the attention of women who come to Smithson’s for this purpose.”

  “When you say it like that, it sounds very far-fetched—”

  “No,” Jack said. “I see it that way too. But there are a couple of other possible explanations. First, it could be nothing more than a way to stand out from the other advertisements. This dePaul might be running the more usual kind of ad as well, he’s just casting a wider net—”

  Anna managed a shaky smile. “Of course. I should have thought of that.”

  “—hold on, I wasn’t finished.” He cradled the back of her neck in one hand and drew her in to him, put his mouth to her ear. “Sometimes a thing feels just a little bit off. Not quite right. That’s probably what you picked up, that feeling, because I’ve got a whiff of it too. So let’s talk to Oscar about this, put our heads together.”

  A train rattled by overhead, and they stayed just as they were until it was gone. Then Anna pulled back to look at him directly. “You’re not just humoring me?”

  “Hell, no,” Jack said. He gave her a grim smile. “I’ve got my faults, but I’m not stupid. You’d never stand for that, and I wouldn’t want you to.”

  • • •

  THEY WERE CUTTING across the park and almost back to the family when Jack saw that Anna’s aunt Quinlan was walking toward home, braced on either side by Elise and Margaret.

  Just that quickly Anna’s expression shifted to what Jack had come to think of as her
professional mask. Without discussion they both broke into a jog. By the time they caught up, Anna had managed to produce an easier smile. She said, “You are more sensible than I am, Auntie. I should take a nap too.”

  Her aunt wasn’t so easily taken in. “Don’t fuss, I’m perfectly fine. Jack, take that girl back to the picnic, would you? She’s going to try my patience.”

  The uncharacteristic peevish tone seemed not to alarm Anna, but to put her worries to rest. “You’ll send word if you need me?”

  “Of course I will. Give me a kiss and go on. You too, Elise. And don’t argue with me, I won’t have it. A short walk will do me good. I’ll send Margaret back just as soon as I’m settled.”

  Jack said, “Don’t I have any say in this?”

  Four faces turned to him. He sighed in mock disappointment, leaned down, and, moving gently, lifted Anna’s beloved aunt into the cradle of his arms.

  “Don’t fuss,” he said to her. “I won’t have it.” And he started down the street at a brisk pace.

  For a moment he thought she was going to box his ears, but suddenly she gave a squawk of a laugh and relaxed.

  “You do remind me sometimes of my Simon. I had a difficult time when I was expecting Blue, and so he carried me everywhere.” She looped an arm around his neck and patted his cheek. “I am so glad to know you’ll be looking after my Anna.”

  • • •

  IT WASN’T MORE than a quarter hour before he got back to the park, but Rosa and Lia were lying in wait and jumped out at him. He took one look at their expressions and crouched down.

  “Aunt Quinlan is just fine,” he said. “Nothing to worry about.”

  “We’re not worried,” Rosa said. “We’re confused.”

  “About?”

  Lia leaned against his arm and pointed. “See that man over there?”

  Jack recognized Ned from the way he held himself, a young man neatly if plainly dressed, his posture erect but his shoulders bent forward toward Anna while she talked, the very picture of manly solicitude.

  “I do. His name is Baldy. Or Ned. What about him?”

  All the brimming energy left them just that simply, because this information only confused them further. They wanted to know why he would have two names, and which was the right one? When it turned out that Jack had no satisfactory explanation for this strange state of affairs, they went ahead with their story, which had to do with Anna, Bambina, and Baldy-Ned. Jack winced but didn’t interrupt to correct them because they were off at a gallop.

  It seemed that Baldy-Ned had walked right up to Anna, had smiled at her and called her Dr. Anna, and asked was it true she had gone ahead and married the Dago detective sergeant contrary to common good sense? Which had gotten Anna to laugh the way ladies laughed when they were being teased and liked it. The confusing part was Bambina, who, it seemed to them, had taken an instant dislike to Baldy-Ned. She didn’t like what he said, or the way he said it, or the idea that Baldy-Ned was going to teach Anna Italian—something that had come out, and wasn’t that good news, that Anna was learning Italian?—and then Baldy-Ned had just smiled at Bambina and called her cara.

  “She didn’t like that at all, that he called her cara,” Rosa said. “But it’s a nice thing to call somebody.”

  Lia, hopping in place, wanted to know what it meant that Bambina turned all red and her jaw got tight. Most important, what did it mean when Anna said that he, Jack, had introduced her, Anna, to Baldy-Ned with perfect manners, and that Bambina might want to follow her brother’s example?

  It was all very confusing and sad because they thought Baldy-Ned was nice and they would like him to come around the house to talk Italian, to Anna and to them, too.

  “So,” Rosa said. “Can you fix it?”

  • • •

  BEFORE HE COULD even get to Anna, the band started up and Baldy-Ned disappeared. There would be no fixing of anything or even any talking over the music, which would give Jack some time to think. He was glad of it.

  Rosa and Lia plopped themselves down on the blanket where Anna had settled, and Jack followed their example. He leaned against Anna and bumped her shoulder with his own. She smiled at him and both dimples came to the fore, a welcome sight that put his worries to rest. Whatever trouble Bambina had stirred up, it hadn’t robbed Anna of her mood.

  He wondered if he should talk to his mother about her youngest and most troublesome daughter and decided that it would only make things worse. Instead he leaned into Anna and threaded his fingers through hers. Despite the brass and drums, he was half-asleep himself and would have dropped off when the band took a break, if Oscar hadn’t come to crouch beside them.

  “I’m going to talk to that Graham, the young ambulance doctor who testified in the Campbell case. I’ll fill you in tomorrow.”

  Anna leaned across Jack to smile at Oscar. “Working on a Sunday evening in June?”

  “Anna, my dear,” he said with a puff of breath that might have been sixty proof. “I love my work. Why don’t you two come along, Jack,” Oscar said. “She speaks doctor, after all. And she might find it interesting.”

  “I would,” Anna agreed, nudging this time with her elbow. “Take me along, Mezzanotte. I’m interested.”

  • • •

  ANNA WONDERED AT herself, that she should find this so compelling. She would be quiet and observant, she promised herself, and hoped it was a promise she could keep.

  Neill Graham had a room in a boardinghouse not five minutes from Bellevue, a rambling, threadbare place typical of the living quarters interns and medical students could afford. The carpet was worn, but there wasn’t a stain or stray dust mote to be seen anywhere.

  The landlady introduced herself as the Widow Jennings and blinked at them while Oscar talked. Then she cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders.

  “I’ve been letting rooms to young men studying to be doctors for twenty years now,” she said, leading them into the parlor. “Since the day Mr. Jennings did us all a favor and dropped down dead. Terrible mean, he was. Awful mean. There I was with this big house and no money—he was a drinker, you see, was Mr. Jennings, drank himself into an early grave. Just not quite early enough. So I said to myself, Hitty, young people would bring some joy into this vale of tears, and I’ve had every room occupied ever since I started. Because I’m fair, you see. I don’t overcharge and I cook good plain food, but plenty of it. My boarders don’t go hungry, and I don’t stick my nose where it don’t belong, I can promise you that.

  “Now you have to tell me why you’re wanting to talk to young Neill Graham. I can’t say my boys never get in trouble, but I’m surprised to hear it’s Neill you’re fixed on. Can’t hardly remember a nicer boy, hardworking, polite. His grandfather lives way downtown, which is why he boards with me. A responsible young man. I always wanted a son, but instead I just had Mr. Jennings, and he gave me nothing but heartache and moneylenders at the door and crabs, more than once.”

  Anna bit back a laugh, because really, it wasn’t at all funny. Unexpected, but not funny. It was only a very small comfort to see that Oscar had gone red in the face, too. Jack was better at hiding things.

  He was saying, “Could we speak to him here in your parlor, Mrs. Jennings?”

  “Yes, of course. Just set, make yourselves comfortable. I’ll fetch him.”

  When the sound of her climbing the stairs faded away, Oscar drew in a hiccuppy laugh, shook his head, and took out a handkerchief to wipe his eyes. His shoulders were still shaking when Neill Graham came through the parlor door, one side of his face pillow-creased and his hair standing up.

  “Keeping odd hours, Dr. Graham.” Oscar’s tone was vaguely accusatory.

  Anna’s impulse was to explain that interns learned to sleep whenever the opportunity presented itself, but she stopped. Oscar might be provoking the young man on purpose.

  Neill
Graham gave a soft laugh. “You could say that.” With thumb and forefinger he rubbed his eyes for a moment and then opened them to focus on Anna.

  “Dr. Savard. Is this about the Campbell case?”

  “It is,” Jack said. “We want to hear about that day again, in as much detail as you can summon.”

  Mrs. Jennings appeared in the doorway with a tray laden down with a teapot and cups.

  “But first a cup of tea,” Anna said. “That will wake you up. Thank you, Mrs. Jennings. You are very thoughtful.”

  • • •

  THE CUP OF tea did its work. Graham talked for ten minutes, telling them when he got up that morning and when he reported for his shift on the Bellevue ambulance service.

  “And your first call, when did that come?”

  “I’d have to check my notes to be sure, but it was about a quarter past seven. An omnibus clipped a boy on the Bowery near Clinton. We got there about half past the hour, and I worked on the boy about ten minutes before we got him loaded into the ambulance.”

  In Anna’s experience, interns were often not at their best in a critical situation like the one he was describing, but in his memory, at least, he had followed a sensible course of action. He talked about the boy’s death in the ambulance in the same measured tone, with some regret but without guilt, which said to Anna that he was competent and realistic, in control of his emotions when he was working. He talked about two more calls, about eating the lunch that Mrs. Jennings packed, the cost included in his room and board.

  “And what time did you get the call about Mrs. Campbell?”

  “I can tell you we got word from the Jefferson Market precinct desk sergeant at just before one. It was a baker’s boy who brought word to the station, but I only know that because I heard the neighbor lady say so on the stand.”

  He took a swallow of cold tea, put down the cup very carefully, and placed his hands flat on his knees.

  “The Campbell house is maybe three blocks from Jefferson Market, so we got there quick. The door was standing open and there were neighbors milling around, the way they do when there’s trouble. You must see that happen all the time.” He looked at Oscar, who gave him a curt nod.